A mindful lesson in being present

Tonight, I held my baby and I cried.

You see, I’ve been resentful lately.

I’ve been angry when he won’t take a nap.

I’ve been annoyed when he wants to sit on my lap while I’m trying to work on the computer.

I’ve been aggravated that he gets into E-V-E-R-Y-T-H-I-N-G.

I’ve wished that he would go back to the smaller, less mobile version of himself.

I struggle with his independence.

I always thought watching a little human – my little human – grow up would be fascinating, but my son is strong-willed and curious.

He doesn’t want to sit idly in front of the TV.

He’d rather cruise around the furniture testing how far he can reach items that he isn’t supposed to have or explore his toy box by taking each and every toy out of it.

Once his adventures have curbed his curiosity, he crawls back over to me and insists on being my sidekick. Even though he’s independent, he craves human contact. He likes being close.

And me, I’ve been needing space.

My mind is caught up in a million other places. I feel like time is of the essence, yet it seems like there’s never enough…. especially when your mini-me is constantly distracting you.

We’ve had a rough week. Wyatt was sick with a cold and decided that a sleep strike would be his medicine of choice. He spent a few days home with me being extra snuggley and extra cranky.

Today, he went to daycare. The daycare says he’s handling the transition really well, but I see it in his eyes that’s he’s upset with us. He’d rather be home with Mom or Dad where he always gets cuddles whenever he wants. Attachment parenting has gotten the best of us.

Tonight, my little man fought bedtime hard. I can’t get angry at him for being a nighthawk like me. He takes after me so much sometimes that it scares me. In fact, I worry what I will face as his personality seems so much more powerful than my own.

As I rocked my son to sleep, his tear stained cheek rested against my shoulder. I could feel his tiny breaths begin to get shallower as he gave in and drifted off to sleep. He felt so warm against me – so soft, so gentle. He’s little still – even if it seems like he’s getting so big.

Tonight, I cried.

Because each and every day, my son shows me what really matters. His refusal to go to bed forced me to slow down and clear my mind. I allowed myself to give in and feel the depths of the present moment.

Then, I felt guilt – for all of the anger, resentment, annoyance and struggles I’ve been facing. Because if I would just take a few more minutes to pause, take a deep breath and pay attention to my son, I wouldn’t be feeling so disconnected.

His needs actually mirror my needs. Isn’t that a fascinating concept?

8 thoughts on “A mindful lesson in being present

  1. Do you think he’s nap transitioning? My two did EXACTLY what you’re describing each and every time they were trying to drop a nap. We’ve just gone to one and while N is loving the longer mornings to play F is like a sticky bogey!
    I’ve been feeling VERY over touched this week and then guilty as sin for feeling like that! They’re still little and they need and want us but sometimes I’d love not to have to readjust my bra 1001 times a day from being hauled on!
    I guess like all other phases this one will pass too …


    • Yes! I said that to Mike that I thought he might be nap transitioning. He actually only napped once today. And yes, I’ve had enough of boobie bites to last me the rest of my breastfeeding career. Grumpy baby loves to takes it out on my precious parts.

      Liked by 1 person

  2. OH Amy! We are going through all of this with Luke right now too. I think it’s so much harder to parent a strong willed child than an easy going one. Luke is into everything as well, and its even worse now that he knows he can climb up onto things. He knows what no means, but chooses to ignore it. Sometimes I just sit and cry while he destroys everything that I just did (especially now because I’m having such a hard time getting anything done anyways).

    If you need to talk to someone or just vent to someone that “gets” it, send me a message. Just know that you aren’t alone in the frustration, and that it will eventually get better


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